User blog:Squibstress/A Slant-Told Tale - Chapter 13
Title: A Slant-Told Tale Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual content; violence; abuse; alcoholism Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Thirteen 1 December 1956 Albus Dumbledore knocked on the door of his old quarters, a bouquet of white cabbage roses in his hand. When the door opened, Minerva invited him in, saying, “Such lovely flowers, Albus! That’s very kind of you.” “I thought you might need something to liven up these old rooms until you have the chance to do a bit of decorating,” he responded. “I don’t have much of an eye for décor, I’m afraid,” she said. “Well, whatever you do, I’m sure it will be an improvement over how these rooms looked when I was in residence here.” She gave him a thin-lipped smile and said, “Please, sit down. I’ll have to order some tea from the house-elves, as I haven’t had a chance to get any tea things yet.” “Oh? Did you not bring your things from France?” he asked. “No,” she replied quietly, and he knew immediately that he had put his foot in it. There had been, Albus surmised from the subtle enquiries he had made after he had heard of Macnair’s disappearance, very little for Minerva to bring home. Gerald Macnair—wherever he was—had left his wife and son nearly destitute. Albus suddenly realised that he knew few details of Minerva’s life in France, other than what he had been able to piece together from second-hand reports of acquaintances who knew people who knew Minerva. Or, to be more accurate, knew of Minerva. He had the feeling that there were few people on either side of the Channel who really knew her. He said, “With your permission, my dear, I shall have Bilby bring up some tea and biscuits.” Minerva nodded agreement, and Albus summoned his personal elf to place the order. Five minutes later, when the elf had returned with the tea service and popped away again, Albus said, “Actually, Minerva, that’s one of the things we need to discuss: the selection of a house-elf to serve you.” “A house-elf? For me?” “Yes. It isn’t part of the contract, but each of the live-in staff gets an elf to tend to their needs while they are in residence. They do have other, general duties around the castle, but they are assigned to be at your service specifically. Usually, when a staff member leaves his position, the elf previously assigned to him is passed to his replacement, barring any objections from either party, but Bilby has been with me since I began teaching at Hogwarts, and he would like to continue with me. Professor Dippet’s old elf, Trasker, is getting on in years, and I’m guessing you would do better with a younger elf.” “It doesn’t especially matter to me, Albus,” she replied. When he didn’t reply right away, she added, “Unless there’s another reason you don’t think it would work.” “To be honest, my dear, I fear Trasker would find it insulting to pass to a head of house’s service after serving the headmaster of Hogwarts for so many years.” “Would he, now?” she asked, and he couldn’t tell if she was amused or offended. “Oh, it’s nothing personal, I assure you. It’s just that there is a very definite hierarchy among Hogwarts’ house-elves, as I discovered when I became deputy headmaster. To serve a head of house is considered an honour second only to—” “Serving the headmaster,” Minerva finished. “I see.” “Quite. If Trasker were younger, I might have considered allowing Bilby to pass to you and taking Trasker myself, in order to maintain a certain status quo among the house-elves, but the fact that he has spent so many years with Armando might make it hard for him to accept new ways of doing things, and I fear that I am also rather set in my ways. I would hate to see him punishing himself constantly for resenting my orders.” “That makes sense,” said Minerva. “But what will he do now? House-elves don’t just retire, do they? The McGonagall elves always … well … died in service.” “No, they don’t retire. Not in the sense that wizards and witches do, anyway. We generally just give them lighter and lighter duties as they get on—the hard part is getting them to accept it.” “How did you get Trasker to accept it? I don’t imagine he took kindly to the reduction in duties.” “I hit upon the—rather brilliant, if I may say so—plan of giving him a new and exalted title: Head House-Elf Emeritus. He has a shiny new badge to go with his title, and his new duties include performing a daily ‘inspection’ of the younger elves and being chief taster of all the dishes to come out of the kitchens. He also is called upon to consult with me in any matters pertaining to house-elves’ duties or welfare.” “Oh, Albus,” said Minerva, laughing, and he was glad to see some genuine mirth from her at last. “That is clever. I shall have to pass your idea on to my mother; she used to complain all the time about getting the older elves to slow down. We had one that kept breaking everything in sight.” “That must have been difficult,” Albus said. “Yes, I remember her going from room to room after the elf, repairing the damage with her wand.” Turning back to the question at hand, Albus said, “You will need to select a suitable elf from among them. I’ve taken the liberty of having Trasker draw up a list of good candidates.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a rolled parchment, which he gave to Minerva. “I had him include elves of both genders, although I know some of the staff prefer one or the other.” “Either one is fine, thank you,” Minerva replied. “I would suggest interviewing several before settling on one. They are all wonderful in service, of course, but you may find some personalities more compatible than others.” “Albus,” Minerva said, her brows knitting in thought. “Yes?” “Might it be possible to bring my personal elf to serve me here?” She sounded embarrassed, and he didn’t know if it was because she thought her request was unreasonable or because she didn’t like to mention that she owned a house-elf. Not many of Hogwarts’s staff could say the same. “It might, although it could cause difficulty among the other elves if your elf did not have other duties as well.” “I could ask Elgar if he would be willing to take on additional duties around the castle. I daresay he’d welcome it, as he’s been unhappy at being so idle at my parents’ house since we returned. He hardly knows what to do with himself without Malcolm to look after or a house to see to on his own. “It would mean a great deal to me, Albus, if he could come,” she added quietly. “Elgar was a great help and comfort to me when things … after Gerald disappeared. I really had no one else.” Albus felt his heart contract a little at her words. “Minerva,” he said, taking her hands, “if ever you would like to talk to someone about what happened in France, I would be honoured to listen.” He felt her hands pull almost imperceptibly away, but he held them fast, wanting her to understand and to trust. “I know that things were not easy for you for some time, even before Gerald disappeared. And I’m sorry you felt so alone. You turned to me once, Minerva. I’d like to be a friend to you now. To you, and to Malcolm.” This time, she did pull her hands away, and he was taken aback by her sudden coolness after having opened up to him, even that little bit. “Thank you, Albus,” she said. “But I’m fine. Malcolm and I are fine.” She added, less stiffly, “I do thank you for the offer. And I do consider you a friend, Albus.” He left her chambers after they had discussed holiday schedules and lesson plans: she would take over the first- through fifth-year classes, and he would continue with his N.E.W.T. students for the remainder of the school year. As he sat in his study that evening, he could not concentrate on the letters he was already a day late in getting off. The conversation with Minerva had unsettled him. She had seemed to be warming up, becoming more comfortable—and then came the sudden chill that had fallen over her when he had offered her his friendship. Perhaps he had been wrong to make mention of the evening they had spent together. Gods! It suddenly occurred to him that she might have inferred some kind of sexual overture in his offer. He mentally scourged himself for his blunder; just when he wanted her to trust him, to feel she could lean on him, he had to go and frighten her—or offend her—with his thoughtless remark. How could he tell her that he meant nothing of the kind? He didn’t want to offend her further in bringing the matter up. Sometimes, he told himself, for a genius, you are remarkably stupid. 7 December 1956 “I think that’s it, then,” Albus said, closing his agenda as he looked around the staff room. “Unless anyone has something to add?” The murmured “no”s prompted him to declare, “Meeting adjourned, and I wish you all a most pleasant evening.” As the staff were gathering their things and beginning to shuffle out, Albus caught Minerva’s eye. “Minerva, my dear, if you have a few moments … ?” “Of course, Albus,” she replied, and they waited in silence as the last staff member filed out and closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry to keep you from the pleasures of your Friday evening, but I didn’t want to speak in front of the other staff.” “Yes, what is it, Albus?” she asked. “I just wondered if you were planning to have young Malcolm here over the Christmas holiday. If so, it might be as well to let the other heads know, so they won’t wonder who he is.” He noticed the colour rise slightly in Minerva’s cheeks, and he thought for a moment she was angry with him, although why she should be, he couldn’t say. Her voice, however, was calm. “No. Malcolm will be at my parents’ home for the holidays. I will visit him on the weekends and on my days off.” “I hope you aren’t having him stay away because of any … discomfort. You are the only staff member in residence with a child, but it isn’t unprecedented, and the governors were happy to make the residence exception for you. I assure you that Malcolm would be welcomed by all the staff.” “It isn’t that, Albus. And I do appreciate the governors’ flexibility in the matter. I just think it is better for him to spend his Christmas in a home rather than a school. Besides, my parents are extremely eager to have him.” “I’m sure they are. But won’t you miss being with him?” Damn you for an old fool, Albus Dumbledore. Of course she’ll miss him. He cursed himself again when he saw her eyes mist over momentarily before her remarkable control exerted itself once again. She said, “Yes, but as I say, I will see him.” He looked at her for a moment, then said, “Very well. I just wanted to be certain there was no other reason.” As long as he was putting his foot in it again, he thought he might as well address the other issue that had been niggling at him since their conversation the prior week. “There was one other thing I wanted to speak with you about, my dear.” “Yes, Albus?” she prompted when he paused. “I … well, it’s rather awkward, but something has been troubling me since we spoke in your rooms last week.” She said nothing, which made him all the more uncomfortable. She would be a formidable foe in an argument, he thought. “It occurred to me later that you might have … mistaken my intentions. When I offered you my friendship, I hope you did not feel as though I were … propositioning you.” Her expression didn’t change. “No, Albus. I didn’t feel that at all.” “I am glad. I thought perhaps when I said … well, never mind. There was no misunderstanding, and that’s good.” She nodded, and he said, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your weekend, Minerva.” “Thank you, Albus. I hope your weekend is pleasant too.” He pretended to be reviewing his notes as she left. He wasn’t sure why. ← Back to Chapter 12 On to Chapter 14→ Chapters of Slant-Told Tale, A